Joe keery's headcanons/mini scenarios
Just little scenarios of you and Joe being together, the soft moments, the teasing, the jealousy, the intimacy. Some are fluffy, some are hot, some are both all of them are just what loving him would feel like.
wc: 2.1k warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content
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Joe Keery and His Criminal Puppy-Dog Eyes
Joe knows exactly what he’s doing.
He’ll pretend he doesn’t, blinking slowly, tilting his head just a little, brown eyes warm and glassy like he’s asking for forgiveness instead of another favor. You’ll catch him watching you from across the room, chin tucked down, lashes casting shadows like he’s trying to look innocent.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you warn, already losing.
He says nothing. Just widens his eyes slightly. Soft. Open. Devastating.
You sigh immediately. “Fine.”
He grins sweet, like he can’t believe it worked again. Like you’ve just handed him something precious.
You’ve lost arguments, snacks, movie choices, and entire weekends to those eyes. Lost them happily.
Sometimes you’ll catch yourself staring, tracing the strange mix of brown and gold, the way his gaze feels gentle even when he’s being a menace. You tell him once that his eyes feel like home.
He ducks his head, embarrassed.
But the next time he wants something?
Joe Keery’s Biceps (and the Way He Knows You’re Watching)
Joe will stretch, arms lifting over his head, shirt riding up just enough, and you’ll freeze. Brain short-circuiting. Mouth dry. Eyes glued.
“Something wrong?” he asks innocently, flexing without meaning to.
He looks down at his arm. Looks back at you. Smiles slow.
From then on, it’s on purpose.
Rolling up his sleeves. Carrying groceries one-handed. Leaning against doorframes with his arm above your head. Flexing just enough to see your breath hitch.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs one night, voice low and amused.
“You’re showing off,” you fire back.
He laughs, warm and smug, leaning closer so his arm brushes your chest. “Can you blame me?”
Sometimes he lets you squeeze them, lets you bite gently while he laughs and pretends not to be affected. Other times he just watches you unravel, eyes dark, teasing you until you’re dizzy with it.
He loves knowing he does this to you.
Joe Keery Taking Pictures of You
Joe carries that little camera everywhere.
At first, you don’t realize how often you’re the subject.
You’ll be mid-sentence, laughing, brushing hair out of your face when you hear the soft click. He’ll lower the camera, smiling like he’s caught something sacred.
“You look beautiful,” he says, casual like it’s obvious.
It’s never posed. Never forced. Just you, curled up on the couch, half-asleep. Standing barefoot in the kitchen. Looking at him like you don’t know he’s watching.
One night, months later, you find a photo tucked into his wallet. Folded carefully. Edges worn soft.
It’s you. Smiling at him.
“You carry this around?” you ask, heart swelling.
He shrugs, cheeks pink. “Feels right.”
When he takes pictures, it’s not about capturing you.
It’s about keeping you close, even when you’re not there.
After a long day, you and Joe finally collapse into bed together, exhausted but content. The soft sheets envelop you as you curl into each other’s warmth, limbs entwined, heads on the same pillow. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.
“Mmm, I love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his arm tightening around your waist. “Best part of my day is coming to bed with you.”
You smile, basking in the intimacy of the moment. “I love you too. Can’t think of anything better than this - all wrapped up in you, in our little world.”
He hums in agreement, his hand idly tracing patterns on your hip. The simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, a thrill of desire mixing with the drowsy contentment. You arch into him just slightly, craving more of that delicious friction.
He seems to sense your need, his lips trailing soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “Need me, baby?” he whispers, his voice low and rough with arousal.
“Yes,” you breathe out, your fingers tangling in his hair to encourage him lower. “Need you so bad. Want to feel you everywhere.”
He groans at that, pressing himself against you more firmly. You can feel him hardening, his cock nestling against your thigh through his boxers. The heat of him radiates through the thin fabric, stoking the fire building in your core.
Without breaking contact, he reaches down to shove his boxers off, freeing his erection. It bobs against your skin, a bead of pre-cum already glistening at the tip. He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your folds teasingly.
“Wanna keep you wet all night,” he murmurs, rubbing himself against you slowly. “Wake up with my cum inside you, dripping down your thighs. Fuck, that’s hot.”
You moan at the thought, your hips rocking up to meet his touch. “Please,” you pant out. “Want to be so full of you. Sleep with your cock buried in me.”
He groans at that, pushing forward just enough to catch your clit with the head of his cock. “Fuck yes,” he growls. “Gonna keep you stuffed with me all night long. Gonna make you so fucking wet.”
And then he’s shifting, rolling his hips until the tip of his cock is kissing your entrance. He pushes forward gradually, breaching you inch by inch, stretching you deliciously around his thickness. You both groan at the sensation, the exquisite fullness of him inside you.
Finally, he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush against yours. He rolls onto his back then, bringing you with him so you’re straddling his waist, his cock buried deep inside your pussy. He grins up at you, his hands settling on your hips.
“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You feel incredible. So fucking tight and wet. Can’t wait to fuck you properly in the morning.”
You whimper at that, already clenching around him. “Don’t move,” you beg breathlessly. “Just stay inside me all night. Please.”
He nods, his grip on your hips tightening just slightly. “Don’t plan on going anywhere,” he promises. “Gonna keep my cock nestled right here, letting you drip all over it.”
And so you fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, Joe’s cock snug inside your pussy, keeping you wet and ready for whatever comes next.
He gets home when the sun is still up, sunglasses crooked on his face, duffel bag slipping off one shoulder. You’re waiting for him, already half-awake on the couch, and the second he sees you, his shoulders drop like he’s finally allowed to rest.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough, eyes heavy.
He almost trips over his own shoes trying to kick them off, mumbling curses under his breath. You laugh softly, following him down the hallway as he changes, putting his pajama shirt on backwards without realizing.
“Joe,” you giggle, fixing it for him. “You’re exhausted.”
He blinks at you slowly, puppy-dog eyes somehow even softer when he’s this tired. “M’fine,” he insists, already leaning into you.
You guide him to bed, tugging the covers back, helping him lie down like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He reaches for you immediately, arms loose but needy, pulling you close.
“Nap with me,” he whispers.
You do. And he’s asleep in minutes, breathing warm against your neck, hand still holding yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
It happens at some fancy event, lights flashing, people everywhere. Joe’s talking to someone behind you when another guy steps a little too close, voice too familiar, smile lingering too long.
You squeeze Joe’s hand instinctively.
When he turns and sees your expression, polite but uncomfortable, something shifts. He steps in smoothly, arm sliding around your waist like it belongs there.
“Hey,” Joe says easily, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The guy falters, suddenly aware of Joe’s presence, the confidence, the closeness, the way you relax into him.
Joe doesn’t glare. Doesn’t posture.
His thumb traces slow circles at your hip, grounding, reassuring. The message is clear without a single word: taken, loved, protected.
Later, when it’s just you two, he murmurs, “You okay?”
He squeezes your hand. “Good. Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
Doing Joe’s Nighttime Routine
You sit on the bathroom counter, legs parted slightly, Joe standing between them like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hands rest on your thighs, warm and steady, thumbs brushing absentminded patterns.
“Hold still,” you tease, dabbing product onto his face.
Keeps leaning in to kiss you, your jaw, your lips, your neck, every chance he gets. You laugh, pushing his face away gently.
“Joe, I’m trying to help you.”
“Mhm,” he hums, kissing you again anyway. “Appreciate it.”
You smooth product into his skin, push his hair back, fingers careful and slow. He watches you like you’re doing something sacred.
“You take such good care of me,” he says softly.
You shrug. “Someone has to.”
His hands tighten just a little at your waist. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Lucky it’s you.”
And suddenly the bathroom feels very quiet. Very warm. Very much like home.
“Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” (smut)
You’re already waiting for him in the dressing room, anticipation building with each passing moment. When the band finishes their set and Joe bursts through the door, looking so good with the cowboy hat on his head that has been driving you absolutely crazy all night, you can’t help but grin mischievously.
“Well hello there, cowboy,” you purr, eyes raking over his sweaty, toned body. “Looks like you could use a good ride after all that rockin’ on stage.”
Joe smirks, reaching up to tip his hat at you. “Well darlin’, I sure wouldn’t mind gettin’ buck wild with a sexy filly like yourself. Why don’t you saddle me up and show me what you’ve got?”
Giggling at his playful innuendos, you hop off the couch and saunter over to him, placing your hands on his strong chest. “Sure thing, stud. But first… save a horse, ride a cowboy!” You declare with a wink, snatching his hat off his head putting it on your own.
Laughing, Joe allows you to push him back towards the couch. He plops down on the plush cushions, unzipping his jeans to pull out his hardening cock. You quickly shed your tight leather pants and straddle his hips, grinding your soaked panties against his rigid shaft.
Joe rumbles, squeezing your ass as he grinds against you. “Come on baby, climb on and take it like the good girl you are.”
Grinning, you reach behind your back to unhook your lacy bra, letting it fall away. You guide Joe’s thick cock to your entrance, rubbing the tip teasingly along your slit before sinking down on him with a low moan. He fills you up completely, his impressive length stretching you wide.
“Oh fuck yes,” Joe groans, hands gripping your hips as you begin to ride him hard and fast. “That’s it baby, bounce on my cock. Show me what you can do.”
Moaning wantonly, you grip his shoulders for leverage and start bucking wildly on him. Your big tits bounce and jiggle with every downward thrust, making his eyes gleam with lust.
Growling, Joe sits up to capture one of your bouncing nipples in his hot mouth. He sucks and licks the sensitive bud, his teeth grazing the flesh as you continue riding him hard.
Lost in pleasure, you bounce up and down, feeling your inner walls clench around his throbbing cock. He drives into you over and over, fingers digging into your ass as he pulls you down on his thick rod.
“I’m gettin’ close baby,” Joe pants against your skin, hands groping your jiggling tits. “Gonna paint this tight pussy with my cum.”
“Mmm yes, give it to me,” you moan, feeling your own release approaching. “I want to feel you Joe.”
With a loud cry of ecstasy, you both reach your peak at the same time. Joe slams into you one final time, erupting deep inside your spasming cunt. His hot cum floods your channel as your own orgasm crashes over you, milking out every last bit of his essence.
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